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Hairgasm

So I went to the salon to get my hair cut today.  It happens similarly most times I go to a real salon.  They just do not know how to handle long, blonde, “virgin” hair.  How they react somehow surprises me every time I go in.  But then, I don’t go in regularly so maybe that’s why.  And my hair is finally waist length again….Here in the states, that’s irregular.

It takes twice as long as it should to finish my hair cut, because they spend soooooo much time as they’re washing, conditioning, and brushing my hair. This time I only got three conditioners.  I’ve gotten up to 5 before.

My hairdresser calls all the other hair dressers over to look at/ feel my hair through the whole process.  They ooo and aww over it’s natural state.  Every stylist has to take a turn at running their hands through my hair and telling me how rare my hair color is. Then they hem and haw over which dye colors they have that would be similar.   (Is it really SO uncommon to not have colored, permed, straightened, or whatever else people have done to their hair, hair?)

But I’m not really complaining.

I have to tell the front 2 stylists it took me 4 years to grow out again, and then they start telling the ones in the back and saying how they wish they could grow theirs out.  Today my hairdresser called out her friend with, “Well if you wouldn’t go home and cut your hair at night, you probably could!”  It gets pretty funny sometimes at the salon.

I will honestly admit I like the extra washing, conditioning, and brushing.  It feels nice. (It’s even in my 41 things to do before you’re 41 list). I also like how they try so hard to do something really great with the basic style that comes with the basic hair cut price. (Because I’m just not going to pay extra for my hairstyle just because they like my hair).

I usually walk out with my hair looking pretty damn good.  I’ve had two shops in my life take a pic of my hairstyle for their books.

They get a little frustrated when I don’t buy a ton of products from them.  You know, the ones that will keep my hair in that doo for the next 6 weeks without moving, or the ones that make my hair shine but not shiny.  Sorry but, I keep my hair as product free as possible.  Yes, coconut oil, egg yolks, never blow dry, loose hairties, etc.   That’s why I got the ooos and aww’s you and your fellow employees just spent the last 2 hours doing.  Not from a $45 can of thickening mousse and $32 bottle of shampoo with clay in it.

But I like my hairstyle tonight.  I will wholeheartedly admit that.  Am I willing to take the 30 min and damage of a daily curling to maintain this masterpiece.  Nope.  Do I wish it wasn’t Tuesday and I could go show this off somewhere?  You better believe it.

Sadly it is Tuesday.  So, I will go back to my mirror and have a little hairgasm.

Night night folks

 
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Posted by on 02/06/2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Graceful movement

Graceful movement

As I laid quietly, I began to feel something under my hands, something with hardness and warmth. I tried to feel my abdomen but it was no longer there. There was movement, an undulating, left, right, left, right. I tried to figure out what I felt. It wasn’t a horse, but it had that type of rhythm and movement to it. But the shoulder blades were different, more pronounced, a different angle. The gait was different, but similar. As I let my mind wander, I realized I was no longer lying down, but rather, sitting up and riding a still-unknown animal.

As I quickly ran through several animals it could be in my mind, I heard, “Just look down”. And there, below me was a magnificent and lustrous giraffe. Her long, strong neck was just ahead of me. I looked down past her shoulders, past her neck, to watch the ground move smoothly under me. Graceful.   She was so elegant and graceful. As she bent down to get a drink she told me to scoot further back that I shouldn’t fall forward onto her neck.

I marveled at the course, yet thick soft hair, at the beautiful angles of each spot on her, and the strength that was so obvious with each movement she made. She raised her head and I hugged her neck as we continued on. I felt her smile.

A piece of my soul that had fled during my time in Mozambique was found.

Before my beautiful spirit animal sent me back into this reality, she nuzzled my face and neck. She let me feel her face and we saw each other.

I came quietly back into consciousness with such a peaceful feeling of strength.

It has been 6 weeks today since I was brutally attacked. Each day brings more healing, more strength, more resolve, and more opportunities. I am grateful for the journey that I am on now. I am grateful for my strength. I am grateful for friends who support and encourage me.

And for those still struggling with what to say, or not to say, ask, or not to ask, it’s all ok. Do or say what you are comfortable with. I am fine. I am strong. I have many more wonderful stories of my travels than the one of a pathetic little man with an abusive mentality.

There are so many more stories of times with friends, trips to beautiful places, teaching beautiful children, and the wonderment of new places. I have had an incredible last 3.5 years and plan to have many more travel stories in the future. I can’t give up the travel bug. I’m already beginning the processes for next spring. I love being out there in the world.

I need to write still about the situation, how I see the situation, etc. I need to write it, to let it not dictate my future. Much of what I will write will be to have a final send off, a sort of farewell. It’s one thing to free yourself of the emotional attachment to these traumatic situations, but you also have to let go of the story, stop retelling the story in your head. And for me, I stop retelling it in my head, if I write it on here.

And I can hold on to the stories I want as I write them on here. Who knows, maybe someday I could forget about the dream with the giraffe, except now that I have written it, it becomes more deeply etched in my memory.

Life is really good. In the words of Kid President, “Go be Awesome!”

 

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